


Golden

by JeySilence



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeySilence/pseuds/JeySilence
Summary: A glimpse into Natasha and Steve's friendship
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Golden

Golden 

The minutes leading to the sunset had always been his favourite part of the day, even way back in the 30s. The light made even the New York City slums he had lived his entire childhood in beautiful. Or at least, not entirely horrid. 

The 21st century had not changed that, and in this blessed moment when the golden light crashed on the millions of glasses on the skyscrapers, Steve Rogers always found himself looking up. For a precious pause in time, the grimy streets were pure beauty. He walked along the Hudson, glimmering under the light, enjoying the perfect moment. Just to try and feel anything else than the utter despair that pulled at his heart, anything else than the guilt that sat heavy on his chest and threatened to choke him if he took a breath too deep. But just for a second, in true Captain America fashion, he had decided to hang on to these rare moments of simple pleasures. 

Because what was the alternative? 

It had been a year since the snap, and all of them who were left had been struggling hard. Tony had a snap of his own and ran out to the woods with Pepper. “In retreat” he said. He swore up and down that he was doing fine, but at least once a week, he and Natasha received texts from Pepper, telling them he may or may not be close to really losing it this time. Natasha never left the Avengers facility anymore and talked to no one except the holograms of the rest of the team and Steve. He had set up a group therapy, just to pretend he had a grasp on reality. Just to try and keep the dark shadows in his mind at bay. Rhodey and the others were scattered around the globe trying to fix what was left of the world. 

He was a soldier, meant to be alive in the urgency of a mission, his life dictated only by what needed to be done to fight and save the others. Never   
before had he had so much time with himself. There used to always be something else to do. A new war to wage, a new emergency. Always something. But now, there was just him and time was all he had. He woke up in the morning, went through the motions and then what? Natasha had told him to get a hobby, but he was not sur who he was behind the soldier. Not sure he was anyone at all. Only a symbol for people to rally to, a beautiful poster on walls. But he was not certain there was anything real and solid about him anymore. That had been taken by so many years of war. 

And how do you build yourself up again when you’re no one? 

When he tried to remember the things he used to love, it felt like reality escaped him. Only had stayed flimsy moments of a time long gone. Natasha had tried to help him when he came upstate to the compound, but any attempt at rebuilding Steve’s personality only had resulted in fierce headaches and a short temper on his part – which was some sort of an improvement, as he didn’t even know he was capable of being short tempered – and Natasha swinging down bottles of vodka and cursing at him in 20 or so different languages. Hungarian was her favourite these days. After she was done swearing at him, she put on the ballet shoes she had neglected for years and danced. Steve just sat by the fireplace with a book, leaving her to run to her own world, where the only pain was the one in her joints, as she tried to convince her body that it could fly, that it could be weightless. He sometimes read a sentence out loud to her, and she never answered but he knew she listened to his steady voice over the songs she danced to. Over the silence. 

At first, it came as a shock to both of them who were so used to bustling cities and the chaos of war. It was easy to hide in the noise, but the silence that fell on NYC after the snap exposed everything. A phrase from a TV show Stark had made him watch all these years ago flared up in Steve’s mind. “Silence will fall”. And it had. Like an axe, slashing through everything he had learned to know. It had already been a struggle to come out of the ice and be thrown into the 21st century, but this time it was almost impossible to get used into this new version of the world. 

The worst part of it was seeing his friend struggle so much. Whenever he asked her how she was, she only said she was fine, so he had just stopped asking. He pretended not to see her cry silently, when she had been dancing for hours, driving her body to exhaustion. He just sat there, for her to fall asleep curled up at his side, after watching one of the thousands of movies left by Tony, or for anything else she might need him. He just was there for her. Sometimes, they let the TV drone on in the background and talked about many things, just the two of them, just to get through the silent nights they hated so much. On previous missions, Steve had learned to trust her training and her instincts, he was now learning to know and like her. He had always loved a good story and she had so many to tell. She told him folk Slavic tales, in a mix of Russian and English and in her soft voice, with the sound of the fire cracking behind them, they really came alive for him. Natasha was curious about his childhood and New York in the 30s. He loved talking about these simple memories, glossing over the hardships of growing up during the Great Depression, but so many of his stories involved Bucky. And sometimes, it was just too much to talk about. 

One time, as he was telling a stupid story involving Bucky and him shoplifting a bottle of liquor for a party, he just shut down completely. His soft blue eyes fixated on a distant memory, that only him could see. And she just was there for him, holding his hands and whispering soothing words in a language he did not recognise or understand, but sounded like the wind in the trees at night. He had fallen asleep still holding her hand, and when he woke up, she was still beside him, a peaceful expression he had rarely seen on her face before. Maybe that’s what it felt like, to be normal. But more probably, Natasha abandoning the careful neutral expression she always wore, all the covers she had spent so much time fabricating for herself, was the sign that there was nothing to save anymore. But still, knowing that he was not absolutely alone in this third version of his world was some comfort. His phone rang, tearing him away from his thoughts. He looked at the screen to see the name of the caller. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, his very last friend in the world.


End file.
